Nil
by SeungSeiRan
Summary: It's all fun and games until someone gets hurt. Hwoarang x Christie.


**If I can write a dark, sadistic, one-sided Jin/Julia, then I can sure as hell write a dark, sadistic, one-sided Hwoarang/Christie.**

**Disclaimer:**** I don't own Tekken. Namco does.**

* * *

It was supposed to be easy. No strings attached. After all, nobody ever took things seriously in a game. It was supposed to be fun, nobody intended to hurt anyone. It wasn't like the latter could have happened anyway...

… that is, if she had been more careful.

Stupid girl. She'd let her heart run wild with the whole situation as usual. What more could he want from her than he did? She was his plaything, a pawn in his twisted chessboard of revenge and he'd do away with her until he'd accomplished what he'd set out to. Amazing as to what the sting of rejection could do to you. The barb pierces your beating heart until it bleeds. Bleeds and bleeds with no end in sight and you'd do anything to just stop the flow.

She could see it now. He'd been blinded by the red.

It had all begun on one drunken night in that car. That's how it had started off, quick and easy. A fast and loose fling. He wanted a balm for his wounds, she wanted the experience his body had to offer. Rough, loveless, mindless fucking...

Let the games begin.

He'd always had his way with the women. Confused, hurt little boy in need of a fix. She'd always had the boys at her feet. Dreamy, hopelessly unrealistic little girl hoping that she could be his heroine. Wasn't that how it was supposed to go in the movies? Girl saves Boy from himself? Live happily ever after?

Refer fiction and other lies.

This wasn't a movie. What he chose to do with his life was out of her control. There would never be a 'happily ever after', only a hard ending.

Men are animals by nature. They mark their territories and guard them with vicious jealousy. The same applies to their females. And when either is snatched from within their grasp, they revert to their base instincts of cutthroat vengeance. As to who gets hurt is but a minor issue. He had lost what he'd once coveted and she'd fallen into the role of a replacement slash sex toy. She covered up the truth in a colorful graffiti of lies so that her reality wouldn't seem harsh. But beneath those bright pastels of fun and games was a complex web of deceit and betrayal.

She was _her_ replacement. He'd kissed _her _in the exact same way and touched _her_ in the exact same places. The worst part was that he'd only ever said those words to _her. _He'd never hold her in his sleep like he'd done with _her _and he'd never share his heart with anyone but _her_. He could never love anyone the same way that he'd loved _her_. Never, never ever. Never again.

So what could she do? Cry about it? A useless act in itself but it offered her some form of temporary relief. It wasn't 'fun' anymore. It was useless. Try as he might, he would never get _her_ back. Why couldn't he just finally accept that _she_ was gone forever? This wasn't how love was supposed to be.

Oh hell, what did she know about love? Love had only been a fleeting, impressionless 'thing' to her.

She'd talk and he'd never listen.

"Is it me?"

"... No."

"Is it us?"

"... No."

"... Is it her?"

"..."

End of conversation.

He's like the moon. Appears by her side at night, seeking out the pleasure which sustained him for the morning when he'd fade away. She's his faithful satellite in her melancholy orbit, weeping tears for the star which has long since faded. Not that he'd ever believe her plea. As the sun rose, she watched him slink out of bed, pull on his clothes, and disappear on a crusade for vengeance and redemption. She would wait until the night could cast its shadows over the scars he brought with him. Time to repeat the cycle, take the blame away.

She's the used. He's the user. He can see that as well as she can.

Yet they leave the mess as it is.

"Hwoarang? I... I'm kinda tired tonight. Why don't we just cuddle?"

"Am I supposed to fall for that, Christie?"

"... I j-j-just..."

He silenced her with a searingly emotionless kiss. "Forget it. You want this as much as I do."

And before she knew it, she'd be flat on her back on the mattress, whimpering with the sensations he poured into her body.

Sometimes, she would watch him as he fell asleep. His face as innocent as an angel's, his red hair fanned out over the pillow, making her wonder how could he be so cruel when he was awake. She wouldn't dare hold his hand in his slumber. He'd probably shove it aside in the morning.

It hurt.

She could leave. Leave right now and never return. In any case, he wouldn't care.

But she cared. It was a foolish, careless thing to do but she loved him.

Clearing up after the party was a tiresome affair. Especially when you had to do it alone. Kids were always attracted to danger. They'd never be content to paddle in the shallow end of the pool. In spite of all the warnings and signs, she wandered in to the deep, dark side. Now... it was too late to go back.

She'd accept the consequences and drown.

One night, he lay asleep on the couch. She stayed awake and watched over him as usual. The moon was nothing but a pale sliver of light against dark velvet. She could hear him mutter _her_ name over and over in his dreams, each whispered syllable a shard of ice piercing her through and through. He was only at peace in his dreams without her presence to tie him down to earth.

Sighing, she leaned over and kissed his forehead before retiring to bed by herself.

Another lonely night.

Nobody wins.


End file.
